


Precious

by l_cloudy



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Soft Kylux, Touch-Starved, feel free to read this as tooth-rotting fluff or dirtybadwrong whichever hits your buttons, or quite possibly both at the same time, schrodinger's fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: Ren touches him, and Hux forgets himself. Ren whispers words in his ear and suddenly it’s as if nothing matters but the two of them, the feel of his fingers tangled in Ren’s hair, Ren’s lips sucking a mark over the hollow of his throat. Ren looks at him and he’s lost, hopelessly lost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy I actually managed to post something after this long! Big thanks to my fabulous #squad for all the cheerleading and courage in front of my bad musical choices, and for telling me to go the fuck to bed. 
> 
> Written for a [kyluxhardkinks prompt](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/152166499795/). If you prompted it kindly let me know so I can hug you.

Ren shows up at his door early in the sleep cycle, doesn’t even bother with the comm before he’s pressing at the edges of Hux’s mind, demanding. _Let me in_ , he whispers, and Hux trembles. _I brought you a gift_.

Hux huffs to himself as he goes to open the door, treading lightly in his bedroom slippers. He keys in his code and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to school his features into the cold mask that comes so easily to him in any other circumstance.

“You’re insufferable,” he informs Ren as the panel slides open to reveal a too-smug smile. Hux stares at him up and down – the damp fringe of dark hair falling across his forehead, his face pale and grinning under the shadow of the cowl, a cherry-red bottle cradled in one arm. Ren holds it out like it’s a prize, turning the bottle so Hux can see the label.

“Jhantorian wine,” he says, as grandiose as any king. His grin is very wide. “I know you like some Core treats every once in a while, General,” Ren goes on, like it’s a secret, like they’re never played this particular game before.

Hux, who’s had Jhantorian wine only twice in life – at his father’s latest wedding and upon his promotion to Colonel – wonders how Ren could ever have come into possess of such a rare delicacy. He may very well have killed somebody for it, which is something Hux can certainly appreciate. He steps aside to let Ren enter, shivering in anticipation as Ren’s heavy overcoat brushes against his bare forearm.

“See?” Ren says, crowding him against the door panel. “I know what you like.” And he grins again, a flash of crooked teeth that shouldn’t be nearly as enticing as it actually is, shouldn’t make Hux’s breath catch in his throat, heartbeat pulsing and hands trembling.

“Really, Ren,” he says, brining one hand up to straighten his collar before he remembers he’s wearing an off-duty undershirt. “From your behaviour this morning, I could’ve sworn you enjoy making my life miserable.” And he slips away from Ren’s hold, staring down at the floor as he walks and trying to regain some amount of composure.

“And where are you going?” Ren asks, sounding amused at his retreat. Hux doesn’t turn to look at him as he speaks.

“To get glasses,” he says, curtly, ignoring Ren’s low laugh.

“If you like, doll,” Ren says, and Hux shudders.

Of all of Ren’s faults, this one is the greatest. Hux hates Ren’s unruly clothing and unpredictable powers and the way he’s barged into Hux’s life just as he barges into his quarters whenever the fancy strikes him – but most of all he hates Ren’s smiles and the solid weigh of his body, the way he can turn him into a flushed mess with one well-placed look and some whispered nonsense into his ear.

Ren has decided to wait for him on the armchair in the corner, the one Hux sits in with his holopad to do some works before going to bed, where he finishes up his reports and sends orders that make it all the way across First Order space. He writes speeches and sends men and women to their deaths in the same spot where Kylo Ren is now sprawled with his legs spread and his coat unbuttoned, staring up at him through half-closed eyes that remind Hux of the predatory gaze of a felinx. He’s still holding the bottle – by the neck, lazily, with three fingers. As if it were something disposable, some trinket that hardly mattered.

“I like that shirt on you,” Ren drawls, and Hux brings one hand up to his chest, self-conscious. The shirt is thin and worn at the hems, with a low neck that makes him feel oddly naked after a lifetime spent in his stiff uniforms. Honestly, he’s thought many times, he should just throw it away. But he likes the colour, a deep moss green, if somewhat faded. During his occasional bouts of moodiness, he catches himself thinking that this is what serenity must look like.

“It brings out your eyes,” Ren says then, as Hux approaches. “You’re so beautiful, you know. I always miss you when I’m away.”

Ren’s voice feels like liquid honey when they’re like this, and Ren’s eyes are as just as warm and enticing and Hux really should know better. He tries his best not to look at Ren’s face as he speaks.

“And you always make my life more unpleasant when you’re here,” Hux says, immediately wincing at the way the words come out. He sounds like some kind of – jilted spouse, like an embittered lover. But he has to say it – he has to speak out, for as long as he’s able to, put up his token resistance before Ren can put his wretched hands on him and turn him into some kind of pathetic, sobbing _thing_.

“You embarrassed me,” Hux goes on, even though he knows Kylo’s not really listening. He never is. “You overstep your boundaries, you don’t follow even the simplest of plans, you make me look the fool in front of my own men, in front of the Leader –”

There’s a sudden sound like of a blaster shot, but it’s just Ren, holding the now-opened bottle in one hand, gesturing at him with the other.

“Come sit over here, would you?” he says. “And pass me those glasses while you’re at it.”

Hux goes, of course, as he’s known he would since the first moment Ren made himself known at his doorstep. He walks carefully up to the chair, eyeing Ren’s lap like it’s a nest of serpents; then he sits down gingerly, glaring the whole time. Ren’s free arm sneaks immediately around his waist, and the warmth of it, the sense of security, makes something twist deep down in his chest.

Ren pours the wine into the two glasses Hux’s got in his hand, carefully, then sets the bottle down on the floor next to the armchair and takes hold of one glass, bringing it to his lips.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “Try it. Tell me how you like it.”

Hux rolls his eyes and takes a careful sip. It’s just like he remembered it, the rich flowery taste that makes him think of a hot spring afternoon on some luscious planet he’s never seen, and the briefest hint of a sour aftertaste to make him thirsty for more. He closes his eyes as he drinks one more sip and then another, and he can feel Kylo’s large hand stroking his lower back over his shirt, Kylo’s forehead where it rests against his temple.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he says, and Hux nods.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes. Thank you.”

Kylo Ren’s smiles, Hux tells himself once more, shouldn’t be as appealing as they are, not as endearing. They fill him with some kind of warm gratitude he doesn’t want to delve on for too long, make him want to touch and stroke and keen until he can get more. Ren is dangerous, that’s what he is. If Hux had any good sense left he would kick him out of his quarters and never allow him back again.

“I can feel you thinking, pet,” Ren says. “You’re troubling yourself.” He finishes up his drink and sets his empty glass somewhere on the floor, bringing his calloused hand to rest on Hux’s uncovered collarbone.

“I thought tonight we were going to relax tonight,” he says, soft and gentle like he’s talking to a child. This is the first Hux has heard of it, of course; he meets Ren’s eyes and tries to scowl.

“I don’t like it when you try to distract me,” Hux says, even as Ren leans in to mouth at his neck. Ren’s lips find his pulse point and he shivers, eyes falling shut. He feels warm all over, hyperaware of the flight flutter of Ren’s tongue over his skin, the hand clasped over his shoulder and the one caressing at his hip. His own hands twitch, fingers opening and closing, and Hux realizes he’s still holding his half-full wine glass when he would much prefer to throw his arms around Ren’s neck.

“Finish that up, that’s a good boy,” Ren says, his mouth hovering only inches from Hux’s lips. “Come on,” he says, and then. “Lights, ten percent.”

The room darkens all around them and Hux shakes his head, looks at Ren through heavy-lidded eyes. “You can have it,” he says. He suddenly doesn’t want any more of it, even though his throat is raw and parched. He needs to stay lucid, Hux tells himself. It may be only wine, but Ren’s already plenty inebriating as it is.

“But I got it just for you, doll,” Ren says, tilting up his chin with two long fingers. Ren’s body shifts under his own, and then he’s thrusting up with one filthy grind, his hard cock pressing against Hux’s thigh.

“Drink it up, for me,” he says, and Hux does. There’s little he wouldn’t do for Ren; not ever, but especially not now. Ren untangles Hux’s fingers from the steam of the glass and brings his hand up to his chest, to the myriad of buttons and buckles and zips of his tunic.

“Come on,” Ren says. “I want your hands on me, pet, you’d like that, wouldn’t you…” He’s rocking his hips into Hux’s own in a slow, steady pace that’s just enough to fill him with want. He’s not hard yet, not quite, but Ren’s body’s wrapped around him and Ren’s smell is his nostrils and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, not now or ever. It’s almost too much, Hux can tell; he’s getting to that soft, faraway place when nothing matters but the two of them, the feel of his fingers tangled in Ren’s hair, Ren’s lips sucking a mark over the hollow of his throat.

“That’s good, pet, like that.” Ren says. It’s dark enough that Hux can barely see his fingers, and it would take Ren hardly a handful of seconds to rid them both of their clothes, but he figures Ren likes to watch him scramble, likes to make him work for it.

Hux doesn’t know why he lets him.

It may have something to do with the fact that Ren is the only man he’s ever had in his bed who seems to view him as more entertaining than the act itself; the only person Hux has ever met who has shown him some sort of care, for all that it comes served with sardonic half-smiles and demeaning pet names. Ren is real and solid and he wants him; and Hux is weaker than he ever thought he could possibly be. And when he looks at Ren – hears Ren’s voice, feels Ren’s touch, thinks of Ren in the most unfortunate moments – then he’s lost, hopelessly lost.

“You’re perfect,” Ren’s whispering into his ear, sucking a path down the side of his throat. “You’re beautiful, doll, so beautiful.”

Ren’s own hands are busy trailing all over him, tugging Hux’s trousers and his underwear off his hips, sliding the cloth over the curve of his ass so he can spread him open. He hears himself moan, sounds he doesn’t remember making. He arches his back to press up into the familiar feeling of Ren pawning at him, throws back his head and whimpers like he’s some sort of wild creature. _Shameless_ , he thinks.

Fingers come to brush at lips and Hux opens up eagerly, and he hears Ren’s soft chuckle as if from a distance. His face feels flushed and his head is spinning and there’s nothing else but this, Ren’s whispered words of praise and Ren’s fingers in his sloppy mouth, his own cock hard and leaking between their bodies.

When Hux finally succeeds in divesting Ren of his heavy tunic he laughs, removing his fingers so he can press a hot kiss on Hux’s lips – quick and close-mouthed, leaving him wanting more. “Look at you,” Ren says. “You’re so needy for me.”

He is, stars help him, _he is._ Just last week, Ren had followed him on his shift, whispering sweet nonsense in his mind from all the way across the crowded bridge. Hux had ended up dismissing his officers and letting Ren bend him over his office desk; and once they were done, all sweaty and breathless, Ren had dressed him so very carefully, then he’d slapped Hux’s come-filled ass and sent him on his way to his routine inspections, still leaking and sore.

Now Ren seems to take the same pleasure in teasing him, trailing his spit-wet fingertips across Hux’s hip and over the crease of his thigh, then down to brush lightly over his hole, just a feather-light touch that leaves him whimpering, makes him spread his legs and grind down for more. There’s a damp patch of skin down on Hux’s chin where he drooled a bit; Ren leans down and brushes it off and then kisses him again, this time deeper, sweeter than all the precious wines in the galaxy.

“You shirt too, pet, come on,” Ren’s saying now, and Hux takes off the green shirt Ren seems to like so much as suddenly he’s naked on Ren’s lap, and Ren’s staring at him with eyes like burning embers. Large  hands settle on his hips, warm and steady, thumbs tracing little circles into his skin.

“Want you to come like this,” Ren says, and Hux stiffens in surprise. “Can you do that?”

Hux frowns, staring down into Ren’s face and trying to find the words, dazzled as he is. He’s lost all sense of his own self, it feels like, swallowed up by Ren’s soft words and Ren’s fingertips over his skin, but he still knows what he wants and this is not it – he doesn’t care for frantic, rushed rutting against Ren’s clothed thigh when he could have Ren’s mouth instead, when they’ve got a perfectly serviceable bed right there in the next room, covered in bedsheets that smell like the two of them. He feels Ren’s hand stroke lightly over his hard cock, just long enough to make him keen, sees Ren smirking at his confusion.

“Want to see you, all panting and squirming on my lap. Will you do it?” Ren ask. He starts kissing at his throat, ever so light. “Let me see how much you want this?”

“Come on, doll,” Ren says, planting wet kisses all over the side of Hux’s neck, down to his shoulder. “You want me, do you?” Hux nods, arching into Ren’s touch – Ren’s mouth on his skin and Ren’s palm on the hollow of his back, encouraging him to move, to rock against Ren’s body and make a spectacle of himself, just like Ren wants.

“Good, that’s good,” Ren’s saying, breathing hard. “Look at you, so pretty for me, doing just as I told you. Beautiful.” He presses their foreheads together, close enough to kiss.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you,” Ren says, and it’s not really a question. “Anything.”

Hux nods, even though he doesn’t need to, even though they both know how things stand between the two of them and how they’re always going to be. He nods as he stares into Ren’s eyes, dark and endless, and then he shudders and he’s coming, a strangled cry on his lips.

 _Anything_ , he thinks. _Anything_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hux wearing a thin shirt with a deeo neck that leaves his collarbones exposed was brought to you by @[saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com)'s [Monsters AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/507087) which you should totally read if you haven't already.
> 
> I'm on tumblr @[liesmyth](http://liesmyth.tumblr.com), please come talk to me about touch-starved Hux and how to take soft kylux and make it creepy. Or just about anything, really.


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